


did i find you, or you find me?

by honey_wheeler



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Cheating, Family, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re from different worlds, Lambert.” Kris glances over his shoulder at Adam. The sun is behind him, turning his hair into a golden corona around his head. Kris gives him a lopsided smile. It’s the saddest fucking thing Adam’s ever seen, somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	did i find you, or you find me?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this before any story about the nail polish came out, sooo…I pretended this is how it really went down instead.

Sushi is their thing. Allison is a sushi fiend; she’d eat it twice a day if she had her way. Whenever they have down time, whenever they’re on their own for lunch, it’s the first thing out of her mouth.

“Let’s go for sushi!” she’ll say, clapping her hands in excitement and bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s some sort of human pogo stick. It’s the same way she reacts to almost everything: new clothes, bulldogs, cheesecake, seeing Zac Efron. Sometimes Kris is afraid she’s going to break from her enthusiasm.

Kris doesn’t like sushi much himself. He’s had it before, he’s just never liked the texture. Stupid Gokey, the first thing he said when Allison suggested going for sushi their first week in the mansion was, “I bet you’ve never even seen sushi before, huh Kris?” Kris had wanted to pop him in the mouth. Sometimes when he’s around Danny he has to remind himself that he’s a Christian.

Adam had rolled his eyes. “He’s from Arkansas, not the moon.” He’d looped an easy arm around Kris’ neck, craned his head down until he could look into Kris’ eyes. “You want to come for sushi, don’t you buddy?”

“I love sushi,” Kris said firmly. Danny had looked irritated. It's like he automatically expects Kris to agree with him or be on his side. All it does is make Kris want to be on the opposite side even more.

“That’s my boy,” Adam grinned, and they traipsed out to the car leaving Danny behind them to grumble, Allison bouncing out ahead. Of course, the trouble with lying about your fondness for sushi means you end up spending a lot of meals picking at raw fish and thinking wistfully of a cheeseburger while Adam and Allison happily plow through a metric ton of seaweed. He ends up making a lot of late night runs to In-N-Out. He could just not go with them. He could eat by himself, or stay at the house with Danny or Scott or whoever’s around. But there are some things and some people Kris is prepared to make sacrifices for.

*****

“So do you want to talk about the pictures?”

It’s the first thing Adam’s said for hours. He looks at Kris with that disarming frankness of his, though it’s underlain with uncertainty, something Kris isn’t used to seeing on Adam’s face. Kris had just thought Adam was tired from dealing with the fallout. The show handlers had _not_ been pleased when the pictures of Adam and his ex started making the rounds. But it hadn’t occurred to Kris that Adam might be unsure of his reception. He immediately feels bad for not saying something earlier.

“No, no, I’m cool with it,” he says. “I mean, not that you need my permission or anything.”

“I’d have to get a lot of retroactive permission if I did,” Adam says with a wry grin. Kris laughs and shakes his head.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean it.” Adam taps Kris lightly on the shoulder to get Kris’ attention. His expression is so earnest and open that it makes Kris feel like someone’s ripping his heart out of his freakin’ chest. It’s some weird side effect of being around Adam, everything seems more intense. “It means a lot to me that you’re so cool about this.”

“Of course.” He grips Adam’s arm, gives it a friendly squeeze. Adam’s relief is palpable. Kris suddenly wonders how many people stopped touching Adam when they found out. Just the thought makes him angry, and he tightens his grip harder than he’d intended to. Adam doesn’t even flinch.

“We can still talk about it if you want, though,” Adam offers after Kris has flopped onto his bed with his guitar, idly strumming the strings with his thumb. “I mean, if you have any questions or anything.”

“We have TV and the internet in Arkansas, you know,” Kris reminds him with a laugh. “This isn’t an entirely new phenomenon to me. I even saw an episode of Queer as Folk once.”

“Okay, okay,” Adam chuckles. “Point taken. But the door’s open.”

“Okay.”

*****

“She has got some kinda crush on you,” Kris tells Adam. Allison is fast asleep on Adam’s shoulder. The movie ended an hour ago, but Adam didn’t seem to want to wake her, so he’s been sitting stock still on the couch, flipping through the fashion magazines that are all over the house, a legacy of Alexis’ relatively brief stay. The two of them are still there even after Kris has checked email, called Katy, and made himself a sandwich.

“It’s innocent,” Adam says in a low voice, giving a lopsided shrug with his Allison-free shoulder. “I’m a safe target. Better for her to practice on me than on some asshole that’ll break her heart.”

“You’re such a softie,” Kris laughs. “Like a roasted marshmallow.”

“Flaming?” Adam suggests with an arched brow.

“No, soft and gooey under your blackened exterior after you’ve been roasted over a campfire in the woods. Except you don’t camp.”

“Oh honey, I camp. I don’t go camp _ing_ , but I camp.” Adam purses his lips dramatically. Kris smiles.

“We should probably get her to bed,” he says. Adam looks loathe to wake her. He’d probably sit there like a statue until sunrise rather than wake her up. Kris throws him a rope.

“C’mon Alli, time for bed.” Kris takes her wrist and gently pulls her away from Adam’s shoulder so Adam can stand.

“Don’ wanna,” Allison mumbles. Her face is scrubbed clean, her lips pale without their normal gloss. It makes her hair look even more brilliant.

“Let’s go, baby girl,” Adam says. Together he and Kris lever her to her feet. Adam crouches in front of her. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

“’Kay.” She drapes her arms around Adam’s neck and rests her head on his shoulder. “Giddyup,” she says sleepily.

“Slap his butt, that’ll make him go faster,” Kris suggests.

“Do it and die,” Adam threatens. Allison seems to be asleep again. If she were awake, Kris is pretty sure she’d be happy to do some slapping. They maneuver down the hallway to her room, Kris keeping them from bumping into walls. When they get to her room, Adam sits on the edge of her bed and carefully tilts her back onto the mattress. Kris leans against the doorframe and watches Adam tuck her feet under the sheets and adjust the pillow under her cheek. It’s quite an image, big, fierce-looking Adam with his spiky black-and-blue hair and giant rings gently tucking her into bed. It would probably surprise people who don’t know Adam very well.

“You’re never what people expect, are you?” Kris asks as they move into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind.

“I hope not,” Adam says sincerely.

*****

Adam’s got about a billion freckles. It’s easy to forget about them when he’s always wearing make-up and leather jackets and scarves, but they’re there; swirling up the insides of his arms when he wanders around their room in the morning in a t-shirt. Scattered across his hips like stars when he stretches and his shirt rides up. Plain as day all over his face, even on his lips, after he’s washed up and brushed his teeth at night. Kris had a weird dream about them once, where he kept tracing them with his fingers and thin lines of ink appeared in the wake of his fingertips, connecting the freckles into lines and shapes and constellations until Adam looked like an abstract painting. Kris woke up feeling weird and guilty, like he’d done something wrong.

Those freckles are the first thing the make up crew attacks before every performance and video. As soon as Adam sits down, someone’s got out a sponge and a little round cake of peachy-beige gunk that gets smoothed onto Adam’s face until the freckles are gone. It always makes Kris a little sad, for some reason.

Kris’ makeup routine isn’t nearly as extensive. A little goop in the hair, a little gunk on the face, he’s ready. His own makeup person isn’t even here yet, and Adam’s already been in his chair for twenty minutes.

“It never ceases to amaze me how high maintenance you are,” Kris says. He leans on the arm of his usual makeup chair and looks at Adam’s reflection. Mirror-Adam looks over without moving his head at all (he’s the best at that – the first time Kris was having his makeup done, he turned his head to answer a question and ended up with a stripe of beige bisecting his face where the brush had skidded across).

“Beauty like this takes time,” Adam says very seriously.

“Dude, don’t you ever want to look like a man?” Gokey asks, wandering up behind them. Kris stiffens. He and Adam’s makeup girl share a look between them. The last thing they all need is yet another dissertation from Danny Gokey on gender roles. Between Gokey and Sarver, Kris has heard enough of those to last him a lifetime and they still have to go on tour with them this summer.

“Look-” Kris starts, but Adam interrupts, talking over him.

“Only for special occasions,” Adam says. “That’s when I wear the mink eyelashes. Tres macho.” Adam flutters his eyes at Danny. Danny laughs, but it’s a weird laugh, more scornful than amused.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “Most guys don’t want to look like women.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not most guys,” Adam reasons. Danny doesn’t have much to say to that. He holds his hands up in mock surrender and backs away from the chairs. Kris sees him in the mirror, chatting and laughing with the PA attaching his mic pack. His very existence suddenly seems offensive.

“How do you put up with that crap all the time?” Kris asks. “I’d have punched him in the throat by now.”

“If I punched everyone who gave me a hard time, I’d be serving a life sentence for assault,” Adam says. The smile on his face is so resigned it’s making Kris nuts. Danny is back there, mincing around, asking if his mic pack makes him look fat, and Kris wants to beat him to a bloody pulp. He pushes away from the chair, intending to do just that, consequences be damned, but Adam stops him.

“Don’t,” Adam says in a low voice. He catches Kris’ wrist with his hand, tugs him back towards his seat. “It’s not worth the effort. Believe me, I’ve heard worse.”

“That doesn’t exactly make it seem better,” Kris says through clenched teeth.

“There are some fights you can’t win.” Adam’s hand is still circled around Kris’ wrist. He’s not holding tightly at all, Kris could break free if he wanted to. It might as well be a handcuff, though.

“You ready for me, Kris?” His makeup artist walks over and pats the chair kitty-corner to Adam’s. It wars with every instinct he has, but he sits down.

He can see Adam having his make-up done behind him, reflected in the mirror. He watches as Adam’s freckles disappear.

*****

“They’re going to give me crap tonight, I know they are.” It’s those dead couple of hours after the morning’s preparation but before they head to dress rehearsal. Danny is off somewhere, meditating or going on a nature walk, who knows. Allison’s power napping. It’s business as usual, which means it’s Kris’ allotted time to pace. “They’re going to tell me I’m not rock, they’re going to say I’m boring, they’re going to hassle me about _something_. If I get compared to you _one more time_ ,” he fumes, “I’m going to… to…”

“Write a sternly worded letter?” Adam suggests. He’s the picture of calm as he sits cross-legged on the floor in front of his bed and paints his nails with his newest favorite color, some dark metallic blue stuff with a French name. Kris is always a jittery, spazzy ball of nerves right before dress rehearsal. Once he gets out on the stage, once his guitar is in his hands, then he can calm down, but before? Forget it. Adam’s like a Zen rock garden the whole time. Kris doesn’t know how he does it.

“ _Very_ sternly worded,” Kris agrees. He drops down onto the floor near Adam, leaning his back against the closet door. “Next thing you know, they’re going to be asking me to _look_ like you. And I could never look like you.”

“Sure you could,” Adam says automatically, then reconsiders at Kris’ rolled eyes. “Okay, maybe not _exactly_ like me. But still. Here.” Adam reaches out and snags Kris’ hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you fierce.”

“I’m about as fierce as a teddy bear,” Kris says, but he lets Adam grip his thumb between two fingers. Adam expertly swipes the brush down Kris’ thumbnail. He does it with the same practiced ease that Katy always does. The one time Kris tried to paint his own nails was for a Halloween costume and it took him half an hour and they _still_ looked like crap.

“This definitely makes you a tiny bit fierce,” Adam decides as he glides the color on.

Kris laughs. “I think they have a different word for it back home.”

“You’re in LA now, honey,” Adam drawls. “You need a whole new vocab. There. Now you’ve got a little Adam on you,” Adam says. Kris starts to pull his hand away, but Adam keeps his hold. “It needs another coat.”

“Hey, Adam?”

“Yeah?” Adam doesn’t look up. He blows gently on Kris’ thumb to dry the polish. His breath gusts across the back of Kris’ hand, making the hair on his arms stand on end.

“Remember you said I could ask if I had any questions?” Adam looks up at that, the brush hovering above Kris’ thumbnail.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. Kris wiggles his thumb a little bit. He waits for Adam to look back down, to go on painting the nail before he continues. He doesn’t want Adam to be looking at him when he asks, for some reason.

“Is it different kissing a guy? I mean, if you’ve kissed girls. _Have_ you kissed girls?”

Adam smiles at Kris’ hand. Kris can just barely see the edges of his mouth curling up. “I’ve kissed girls,” he says.

“So is it different?”

“Depends on the girl.” Adam flashes a wicked grin up at Kris.

“Oh.”

“I can show you if you really want to know,” Adam teases. Without his consent, Kris’ eyes drop immediately to Adam’s mouth. That freckle is there, the one right on Adam’s lower lip, and Kris can’t stop from wondering if he’d be able to feel it with his tongue. He can feel the blush starting, the way it always does, at the tops of his ears. Knowing he’s blushing only makes him blush harder. Adam gives him a look that manages to be knowing, shrewd and surprised all at once. Something tightens in Kris’ gut like a fist and he feels too open, too exposed. He tugs his hand out of Adam’s grip.

“You smudged it,” Adam says quietly. His hands are tucked carefully at his sides. He looks apprehensive again, the same Adam that brooded all afternoon when those pictures first leaked. “Do you want me to fix it?”

“It’s okay,” Kris says. “I think I have enough Adam on me for now.” Adam tries for a grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s what they all say at first,” he quips. Kris wants to say something, to make it better. But anything he could say would just make everything else worse.

*****

Allison squashes herself into the back with them for the ride home from the show, instead of her usual spot in the middle bench. She’s got both her arms wrapped around Kris’ elbow, her chin resting on his shoulder, and she doesn’t seem inclined to let go. Kris can’t say he minds. It kills him that she’s six years younger than he is but she’s still mothering him. He’ll miss it if either one of them has to go home tomorrow.

The driver is off somewhere, doing something undetermined, so they’re sitting in the parking lot for a while, the car getting a little hot and stuffy. Danny opens a window and sticks his face out like a golden retriever. A golden retriever wearing rimless glasses. Kris would laugh if he weren’t still feeling so murderous towards Danny after that duet. Allison looks at him and snorts.

“Sushi,” she mutters. It’s become their code for whenever they want to get away from Danny. Which is often, lately. He and Adam have been butting heads more and more. Danny never quite comes straight out and says something horrible or ignorant, but he always dances around it, until everyone’s more on edge about what he _might_ say than about what he _does_ say.

Adam is holding himself carefully next to Kris. With Allison back there, there’s no room to spread out, so Adam’s pressed up against Kris’ side, his arm on the seat back behind him. But Adam’s usual careless grace is gone, replaced by tentativeness. Kris knows it’s because of his reaction earlier. That Adam probably thinks Kris is freaked out and repulsed. “It’s not you,” Kris wants to say. But then what _does_ he say, it’s me? I felt something I wasn’t ready to feel? I don’t even know what I want anymore? He’s not prepared to acknowledge any of those things, so he keeps quiet, even though the guilt is killing him.

“Look at your rockstar thumb,” Allison says, tapping her fingertip against the painted nail. “I didn’t notice that before.”

“Adam thought I needed a little something fierce,” Kris tells her with a grin.

“I’m going for eyeliner next,” Adam says. They all laugh, even Danny in the front seat.

“I bet it’s lucky,” Allison whispers in Kris’ ear.

“Maybe,” he whispers back. He has no idea how he’s going to make it through tomorrow. He’s not ready to leave.

*****

The polish feels slick and smooth when he rubs it with his other thumb. He should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t calm his mind down, he’s thinking too many things too fast. So instead he’s lying here in a dark room, turning over every fifteen seconds and testing the surface of the polish with his fingertips.

He flicks on the light. The alarm clock reads 2:37. Crap, he is going to be _exhausted_ tomorrow. He examines his thumb in the light. He’s surprised to find that he kind of likes the way it looks. Maybe not on all ten fingers, but just one thumb is cool. He laughs and shakes his head a little.

“I’ve only been here a couple of months and I’m going Hollywood already,” he says to himself. A year ago that would have seemed crazy. Now it doesn’t seem so bad.

*****

Allison is the hardest one yet. It’s never really easy when someone leaves. It’s such a weird experience that they’re all sharing that they can’t help feeling like family. But Allison is something more than that and the tension in the air proves it. Adam has a look on his face like he’s losing his best friend. Kris feels a pang of jealousy that he shoves aside. Allison is just a kid. She needs someone like Adam to look out for her more than Kris does. It only makes sense. Nothing to be jealous about.

“You guys better get to the finale for me,” she warns them while she’s packing her bags. Her room looks like a hurricane hit it; clothes and shoes are everywhere, jewelry is heaped on every available surface. Her mother is in the walk-in closet, clucking over the piles of wrinkled clothes. “I mean it, if I see Danny in the finals instead of one of you, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Kris says. The door frame is hard against his shoulder. Adam is cross-legged on the floor, folding Allison’s most favorite shirts carefully and placing them in the open suitcase at his side. Mrs. Iraheta mutters something from the depths of the closet. Kris remembers just enough Spanish from high school to know that she’s not America’s biggest fan right now.

The goodbyes are quick. Allison prefers them that way. Adam would stand in the driveway, hugging someone for days if he had his way, but Allison wants it short and sweet. She waves her mother into the waiting car before turning to the two of them.

“Remember, finale,” she warns in a fierce tone. It’s more of a threat than a request. She turns to Kris, wraps her arms around his ribcage tightly, squeezing until Kris is having a little trouble drawing in a deep breath. Then just as quickly, she lets go, her hair tickling his nose as she steps away and launches herself at Adam. Kris hears Adam’s low voice, but he can’t tell what he’s saying. It makes Allison laugh, though, whatever it is, and when she pulls away she’s grinning even though her eyes are wet.

“Bye, baby girl,” Adam says.

“See you ‘round, old man,” she answers. “Take care of each other, okay?” She trots to the car and slides quickly into the backseat. Adam’s not even trying not to cry. They stand and watch the car wind down the driveway and turn into the street. Kris would have moved to go back inside, but Adam stays where he is, watching the taillights for as long as they’re visible and then staring down the street at nothing, so Kris stays too until Adam is finally ready to go inside.

*****

“What’s with the long face?” Danny asks the next day after they’ve gotten back from the typical morning stuff – picking songs, mapping out the plan for the week, getting their marching orders for the home visits. He punches Adam playfully on the shoulder, dancing around him like a boxer. Kris can see Adam’s brows lower another quarter inch from their already low mast, but otherwise he doesn’t react. “We’re in the final three, you should be celebrating!” Danny throws a few more shadow punches before Kris catches his arm and pulls him away.

“Hey, lay off him,” Kris says under his breath. Danny shrugs and wanders out of the room, probably to find a phonebook in case there’s someone in America he hasn’t called and told about being in the final three yet. Adam’s expression doesn’t change.

“You doing okay?” Kris asks him.

“I’m fine,” Adam answers in a tone that indicates the exact opposite.

“Nice, I almost believed you,” Kris says. Adam makes a face. “I miss her too, man.”

“It’s just so _quiet_ without her.”

“I know.” They can hear Danny on the phone again, talking to his third cousin twice-removed, or whoever the heck it is he’s called this time.

“Can you believe it’s a ringtone?” he’s laughing. “I’m a celebrity!” Adam’s scowl deepens.

“Sushi?” Kris asks.

“Sushi,” Adam agrees rather forcefully.

*****

“So when do you leave?” Adam asks. He’s pushing his food around his plate like a fussy toddler. Kris has to fight the urge to tell him to stop playing with his food and eat.

“Tonight.” The idea of going back home to Arkansas seems strange. He’s been missing it for months and now he almost doesn’t want to go.

“Really?” Adam looks at him in surprise. “I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I guess the time change is a problem.”

“Yeah, I’d have to leave crazy early and the day would still be half done by the time I got there.”

“That’s why everyone should live in California.” Kris has to laugh at Adam’s logic. He likes California well enough, but there are some things it doesn’t have. Like good barbeque. Kris would _kill_ for some good barbeque.

“You know something?” Kris says, poking at his caterpillar roll with a chopstick.

“Hm?”

“I’ve never liked sushi.” Adam’s head jerks back a bit in surprise, his eyebrows beetling in confusion.

"What?"

"I actually kind of hate sushi." Kris laughs. It’s sort of a relief to say it. It wasn’t anything important, just some stupid raw fish, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. But still. It’s nice to be honest about it.

"Why didn't you say something?" Adam asks. Kris shrugs, looks down at his plate for a minute.

"Because I didn't want to be stuck at the house with Gokey while you guys went off and had fun without me," he says after a while.

"Oh, Kristopher." Adam’s voice manages to convey amusement, affection, exasperation, a hundred emotions. Kris makes a face at him.

"Shut up." He tosses a chopstick at Adam when Adam laughs.

"Well at least now I can stop worrying that you have a tapeworm," Adam says.

“You thought I had a _tapeworm_?” Kris asks in disbelief.

“You’ve been eating two dinners almost every night!” Adam says. “And you still weigh less than one of my legs! It’s not the most irrational conclusion.”

“Well, now you know,” Kris says.

“Knowing is half the battle,” Adam agrees. But his face grows thoughtful, his eyes troubled. He’s looking at Kris like he’s afraid Kris might break. Kris clears his throat uncomfortably and signals for the check. They split it in silence. It isn’t until they’re out on the curb, waiting for the car to come around, that Adam speaks again.

“We would have gone somewhere else, you know,” Adam says quietly. “If you’d told us. The company was more important than the food.” He touches his knuckles lightly to Kris’ shoulder.

Kris opens his mouth to answer, but he’s embarrassed to realize there’s a lump in his throat that words won’t get past. So he closes his mouth again and nods. Adam seems to understand. He drops his hand, but he’s still standing close enough that Kris can feel the warmth radiating off him through his sleeve. Kris shivers and pulls his jacket more tightly around his body, even though it’s not particularly cold. It’ll be good to get back home to Arkansas, really it will. He’s almost got himself convinced.

 

*****  
*****

 

The nail polish is still there. Adam’s not _checking_ for it, it’s just that he _notices_ it. It’s not like Kris hasn’t had a chance to take it off, either. Adam had left his bottle of nail polish remover out on the bathroom counter, a lone cotton ball balanced on top of the cap. It's probably still sitting there, unused. Instead the polish is just chipping away to a blue patch in the center of Kris’ thumbnail. It’s still there when Adam looks up pictures of Kris’ homecoming from his father’s house on Friday, and it’s still there when Kris walks into the mansion, exhausted, on Saturday night. Some dumb nail polish shouldn’t make Adam’s pulse stutter the way it keeps doing.

The homecoming was a nice break. He thought he’d be glad to get away from it all, to be home where everything’s normal, and he was. But he also found himself wanting to tell Kris some story, or ask some question. He wanted to tell him about the streaker, about the crazy ass weather girl, about how weird it was to have high school kids screaming for him when they would have been threatening to beat him up a decade ago. He could text or call, but that wasn’t the same as having Kris just next door, separated only by a shared bathroom.

He’d gotten a text from Allison an hour ago – “hey losers, how r u doing w/ danny? hahaha” – that he hasn’t yet answered. She’s too young to hear what he really thinks of the whole thing after listening to Danny tell the “hilarious” story of how he forgot the words to Billie Jean. For Kris’ sake, he hopes his flight is late. For his own sake, he hopes it’s not. When he hears a car in the driveway, he forces himself to stay sitting on the couch, even though he wants to jump up and run to the door.

“Lucy, I’m home!” Kris singsongs as he drops his bags on the floor.

“Welcome back,” Adam calls from the couch. It’s an effort to make himself sit still. But he’d sworn to himself that he would let Kris dictate the terms, that he wouldn’t push anything. Kris wanders into the TV room, stops and stares at Adam sitting on the couch. Adam looks back at him with some apprehension. He’s not used to feeling so unsure about things with Kris. Usually Kris is the one sure thing he’s got.

“Well, don’t just sit there, you idiot, come here and give me a hug.” Kris holds his arms out expectantly. Adam flushes, whether from pleasure or embarrassment he isn’t sure. Kris smells like sunscreen and plane fuel. Maybe Adam hugs him a little too tightly, holds on a little too long. But it’s not like Kris is letting go either. Adam figures he’s fine as long as he lets go first.

“So how was it?” Kris asks after they’ve broken apart and moved back to the couches. “They told me the Sea World thing got canceled, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah, it was nuts. I don’t even know how many people were there but it was insane. I feel like I need to give an IOU to everyone.”

“How was the other stuff?”

“Amazing,” Adam says honestly. “And weird. The only place I really felt normal was at the theater group. Everywhere else was pretty strange.” He’s trying to keep his tone even, but something in it makes Kris frown in concern. “What about you, was it crazy?” he asks quickly. He’s not sure he’s ready to talk about how strange the whole weekend was yet, how weird it is for people to give him such whole-hearted, unconditional support, all because he’s on a TV show now.

“Man, it was amazing,” Kris says, his face lighting up. “There were so many people! And I get free cheese dip for life at my favorite restaurant.” Adam laughs. He’d bet Kris was almost as excited by the cheese dip as he was about the hometown support. Adam’s eyes are drawn to Kris’ hand. The jolt that goes through him at the sight of the blue patch of nail polish still in the center of his thumb is alarming, if not entirely unexpected.

“Still have that, huh?” Adam taps Kris’ thumbnail with his index finger, his voice overly casual. He expects Kris to laugh it off, to act like it’s nothing, the exact same way Adam’s planning on acting about it even though it makes his chest feel tight every time he sees it. But Kris ruins the script by blushing and curling his hand into a fist, thumb tucked under his other fingers. Adam tries to ignore the flopping of his stomach.

“It’s chipping,” Kris says.

“Now you see why I require so much grooming time,” Adam jokes, working to keep his voice as light and even as possible.

“Could you repaint it for me?” Kris looks directly at Adam when he asks. It’s the last thing Adam was expecting him to say.

“Sure,” he says once he’s regained his footing. “I could do that.” Funny how his chest feels airy all of a sudden, like an expanding balloon. As a matter of fact, he feels better than he has in days.

*****

They usually wait in the greenroom when other people are singing. You’re always in someone’s way backstage, the sound isn’t as good as it is over the monitors, it’s just a big hassle in general. But Adam wants to see Kris do Heartless with his own eyes. He knows it’s going to be great as soon as Kris starts, just from the sound of his voice, the way he’s holding his guitar. It’s the closest Kris will ever get to telling Simon to go fuck himself. Adam glances over at Simon. He looks stunned. Stunned and pleased. It’s strange, but Adam thinks being told to go fuck himself is Simon’s favorite thing in the world.

“You killed it,” he tells Kris the second he gets offstage. They’re hugging each other, clapping each other on the back. Adam’s not even sure what his limbs are doing anymore. “You _killed_ it! If that doesn’t get you to the end, I don’t know what will.”

“Thanks, man.” Kris is grinning, ducking his head. His face looks like it might break from smiling so hard. Adam swings an arm around Kris’ shoulders, pulls him in for another hug.

“I’m like a proud mama,” he says. It’s insane how happy he is right now. He wants to trap the moment in amber and make it into a necklace. After Allison went home, he’d been afraid that Gokey was in to stay and one of them would be out this week, which was just about the most depressing thing he could imagine. But now it feels like anyone’s game. Now it feels like they might really pull it off.

“’Scuse me, boys,” Danny says. He shoulders past them to stand at the edge of the stage, even though they’re in a commercial break and he won’t go on for another minute. Kris rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb towards the green room. They start walking back, shoulders bumping. The nail polish on Kris’ thumb catches Adam’s eye and he grabs Kris’ hand, holds it up to the light.

“Maybe this _was_ good luck,” he says. “You should keep it. You don’t want to jinx anything.”

"You don't think this is too much dude nail polish for the family hour?" Kris laughs.

"Here." Adam stops in the middle of the hallway and starts to chip at the paint on his own thumbnail. It takes him a minute, but he gets it all off. "Now it's the same amount as always. You just borrowed mine." Kris holds out his painted thumb, touches it to Adam’s newly bare thumb. Something about the gesture feels so intimate that Adam is almost embarrassed. He doesn’t know if he wants to throw himself at Kris or run in the opposite direction.

“One full set,” Kris decides. “I like it.” Adam tries to keep his smile in check.

*****

They barely see each other the week before the finale. Three songs take a lot of rehearsal, not to mention fittings and interviews and all of the hoops they have to jump through, since signing the Idol contract is roughly synonymous with signing away your soul. They moved out of the mansion two days ago, so they aren’t sharing a bathroom anymore. They aren’t even sharing a floor in their hotel either. Adam thinks Kris is on the 9th floor, but he’s not completely sure.

The few times they do see each other, they’re going over staging, rehearsing the group numbers with everyone else, being fussed over by makeup artists and wardrobe people and PAs barking into their headsets. They spend most of the time giggling in increasingly exhausted delirium over how insane it all is.

“I can’t believe you’re singing with Kiss,” Kris says. They’re filming the Ford video, a process that’s filled with more starts and stops and delays than usual. Or maybe it just seems that way because Adam’s about to pass out. Someone’s fiddling with the lighting rig. It’s taking all of Adam’s self control not to jokingly launch into a Christian Bale-style tantrum.

“And you’re singing with Keith Urban!” Adam says. Kris laughs.

“Don’t pretend you’re excited about Keith Urban.”

“Well,” Adam hedges. “He’s cute. And Nicole Kidman has amazing skin.”

“It’s good that you focus on the important things.”

“Good news, guys,” a PA calls from across the set. “We just got the go-ahead on the Queen duet. You’re going straight from here to Nokia to block the number.” Adam’s head starts buzzing.

“We’re singing with Queen?” he says dumbly. Kris looks as stunned as he feels. When the possibility of a Queen duet had been floated to them, Adam had been hopeful without ever believing it would actually happen.

“That’s right.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Holy shit.” He and Kris look at each other. Their mouths are agape. It’d be funny if Adam weren’t in shock. “I’d hug you but I might knock you over,” Adam says. He’s feeling distinctly dizzy. Kris shakes his head.

“Screw that,” he says. He tackles Adam in a hug, one so fierce that Adam’s the one in danger of being knocked over.

“I’m afraid I’m dreaming,” Adam says into Kris’ shoulder.

“Queen,” Kris says. Then, more giddy, “Queen!” He pulls back and keeps his hands on Adam’s shoulders, shaking him a bit in excitement. “I would have been so pissed if Gokey got to sing with Queen and I didn’t.”

Adam laughs. “That makes two of us, buddy.”

“You and me, man. To the end.” Kris’ face is so earnest that it hurts Adam to look at it, like looking directly at the sun.

“To the end,” Adam echoes. He hopes the end is a good long while away.

*****

Mrs. Allen is the first person to give him a hug after the final results other than his own family. Somehow she finds him in the sea of people, even though she’s a foot shorter than most of them, and squeezes him so tightly he thinks he might pass out.

“Now, you’re coming to visit us after the tour, aren’t you?” she says once she’s loosened her grip.

“Of course I am.” He grins down at her. Bits of confetti dot her hair and shoulders. Her smile is so big that her whole face is scrunched up. It’s in sharp contrast to the traces of mascara still streaked on her cheeks from crying. He licks his thumb and swipes them off without even thinking, but she doesn’t seem to find anything odd about the gesture.

“You are, and you’re going to stay with us and I won’t hear any argument about it, so you might as well pack your bags now, okay?” She pokes her finger into his chest – she has to reach up to do it – to emphasize her point.

“Consider them packed,” he tells her.

It’s hard to spot Kris in the crowd. Adam finally sees Katy’s yellow dress. Kris looks dazed, buffeted by well-wishers and friends. Adam lets out a whistle and somehow Kris hears it over the din. All they can do is wave and grin at each other over the crush of humanity between them. It’s only fifty people or so, but it might as well be a million.

*****

Everything is green, even at the airport. Arkansas even _smells_ green. Adam blinks against the glare, overly bright after the darkness of the terminal, and fumbles in his messenger bag for his sunglasses. Kris is waiting at the curb outside the baggage claim, leaning casually against his car. Adam’s heart lurches like he’s seeing someone he hasn’t seen in years, instead of someone he saw two weeks ago.

“They just let you sit at the curb like this?” Adam asks by way of a greeting. “At LAX you’d get arrested and cavity searched and they wouldn’t even buy you dinner first.” Kris grins at him.

“That’s southern hospitality,” he says with a laugh. “Welcome to Arkansas, Lambert.”

Any worries that Adam had about whether it would different now that they’re not in the middle of the Idol experience evaporate the second he drops his bags and Kris tackles him in a hug. He’s so exuberant, so happy to see Adam even though they just spent months together on tour, that it’s infectious and Adam’s hard-pressed not to pick him up off his feet and swing him around. Kris might not even mind, is the crazy part.

*****

“So my mom’s insisted that I bring you to the house first so she can see you,” Kris is saying as he slides in and out of lanes with a careless disregard that has Adam grabbing the door handle and stomping on the imaginary brake pedal on his side of the car. “And then we’re going to meet up with Katy for dinner once she’s off work.”

They’re zipping through quaint looking suburbs, little houses surrounded by cinder block fences and perfectly round trees. It only takes a few turns for Adam to become completely lost and disoriented. The streets all seem to curve.

Kris’ house is ordinary, cute, non-descript. No different from any house you’d see in San Diego, really. There’s a tidy lawn and shrubs with little pink flowers blooming on them under the windows. Kris’ mom comes tearing out of the front door as soon as the car pulls into the drive, her hands waving excitedly above her head.

“You’re here!” she cries.

“I’m here!” he answers. She’s even shorter than Kris is. Adam has to stoop down extra low to hug her.

“Look at that handsome face!” She grabs his face between her hands and gives him smacking kisses on both cheeks.

“Don’t smother him when he hasn’t even been here an hour, Mama,” Kris warns from the back of the car where he’s hauling Adam’s suitcase from the trunk. There’s a definite twang to his words, one that only seems to show up when Kris is in the south. When they were on tour, Adam could just find Kris and ask him a question if he ever forgot where they were, exactly.

“Now there’s no room at Kris’ apartment, so you’re staying here with us.”

“Good, I like you guys better anyway,” he grins. Mrs. Allen smiles and swats him on the arm. Adam moves to grab his bags, but she hooks her arm through his and firmly steers him towards the house.

“Kris’ll get those, won’t you, sweetie?” she says. “Just you wait, we’re gonna treat you so good you’ll never want to leave.”

“I’m counting on it,” Adam tells her. He looks back over his shoulder at Kris, who’s dutifully schlepping the bags up the walk. “Jeeves, the luggage,” he calls. Kris grins and flips him the bird. Adam drops his mouth open in faux-shock. _I’m telling your mom_ , he mouths as Mrs. Allen shepherds him through the front door.

*****

“Geez, how much did you bring?” Kris groans as he hefts Adam’s suitcase onto the bed in his old bedroom. It rumples the plaid coverlet – there’s a _plaid coverlet_ , Adam could honestly die at how cute it all is – and makes the bedsprings creak in protest.

“I need outfit options!” Adam says. “Always be fashionably prepared, that’s my motto.”

“I thought your motto was fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.”

“Kristopher Allen, language!” Adam says, scandalized.

“You must be rubbing off on me,” Kris grins. There are about a million responses that Adam can think of for that, but only one or two of them are PG-rated. So he settles on inspecting the framed pictures scattered on top of Kris’ dresser: Kris as a Cub Scout, Kris in Little League, Kris playing a guitar that’s almost as big as he is. The biggest is a family photo with soft-focus edges, all four Allens in front of a fake library backdrop wearing turtlenecks and seasonal sweaters. Kris looks maybe twelve years old.

“Oh my god, look at your little face!” Adam’s aware that he’s squealing like a teenaged girl, but he can’t help it.

“Dangit, it’s a normal-sized face, stop saying that,” Kris grumps.

“It is a teeny tiny face,” Adam insists. “Man, you all look so wholesome.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Adam slants him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe not in this case,” Kris concedes.

“This is like apple pie and fourth of July picnics and…and…and milk, in family form, having their picture taken at Olan Mills.” Kris rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Kris, you’ll be late to meet Katy!” Mrs. Allen calls from downstairs.

“You need to primp?” Kris asks.

“Are we going someplace fancy?”

“Nah, just a brewhouse.”

“I’m ready to roll, then.” Adam grabs his jacket and a scarf and gestures to the door of the room. “Lead the way, Apple Pie.”

*****

Dinner with Katy is bright and chatty, a lot like Katy herself. Adam hasn’t seen her for a while, so they have a lot to catch up on. She didn’t come with them on tour, only meeting them here and there when it was convenient or they were playing in a city she really wanted to visit. Adam always kind of wondered about it, but it seemed to work for them so he never pressed the issue. Kris never seemed bothered that she didn’t come along, beyond missing her in general. But now it feels a little strange, like both Katy and Kris are more interested in him than each other. He weirdly feels like he has to give them both equal attention, to make sure no one feels left out or neglected or jealous.

They get interrupted about a hundred times by people coming up to talk to Kris. He seems to know just about everyone – he calls them by name, asks about their kids and their jobs. He’s like a local celebrity and it’s not even because of Idol. Katy catches his eye when they’re interrupted for the third time during dessert alone.

“It’s always like this,” she says in a low voice, leaning in close to Adam and jerking her head towards Kris and, “Margie, Margie Patterson, I used to work with your Dad when you were just an itty bitty one.”

“Of course I remember you Mrs. Patterson,” Kris is saying graciously. “How’s Eli doing, is he still in college?” Katy laughs. If the constant visitors bother her, she doesn’t show it.

“It’s so good to see you, Adam,” she tells him sincerely. She covers his hand with hers, gives it a squeeze. “I’m so glad you came, it’s all Kris has been talking about for days.”

“I’m glad too,” Adam says, but he has the good grace to feel guilty at the happy surge his heart gives at her words.

*****

The smell of coffee wakes him the next morning. He didn’t sleep well. Kris’ bed is too small for him by quite a lot. His feet hang off the end. He’d cracked his elbow on the dresser more than once. And it was just strange to be in a room so full of Kris, but a different one than the Kris Adam’s used to. Not different by a whole lot. Adam’s pretty sure Kris was born being kind and generous and completely adorable. But still, different. Every time he got up to use the bathroom or get some water, he would stop and stare at the pictures, at Kris’ old books and CDs, at his closet full of plaid shirts and jeans and Hollister t-shirts, and wonder about the Kris that used to inhabit this room. If he ever thought he’d be famous. If he ever thought he’d be buddies with a big, Jewish, sometimes-cross-dressing queer.

Adam debates getting dressed before going down to breakfast, but his pajama pants are conservative enough and he figures Mrs. Allen has seen her share of sleep-rumpled boys, having raised two of them, so he just pulls on a plain white t-shirt before he shuffles to the kitchen. Something is sizzling away on the stove. Mr. Allen is frowning at a newspaper through his bifocals. Mrs. Allen is puttering around in a pink robe, humming tunelessly as she pokes at something in the pan on the stove.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she says brightly when she catches sight of him. She points to an empty seat at the table, already set with a plate, silverware, a glass of orange juice, and – and this is even more adorable than Kris’ plaid coverlet – a multi-vitamin sitting in the curve of the spoon. Adam sits down and she immediately heaps four pancakes on his plate.

“I’m sure you’re hungry,” she says, then she casts a critical eye over him. “You’ve lost weight, we need to fatten you up.” Adam laughs.

“I think my trainer and my wardrobe person would beg to differ,” he says. The look on her face tells Adam exactly what she thinks of trainers and wardrobe people encouraging him to lose weight.

The pancakes are the best he’s ever had. “My specialty,” Mrs. Allen beams when he compliments them. He usually doesn’t eat a whole lot of breakfast – he didn’t have anything other than coffee and cigarettes before noon for a stretch of about eight months once – but he finds himself holding out his plate when she asks if he wants seconds.

“Kris called,” she says. “He’ll be over in a bit and then you boys can go get into trouble.” She absently runs her hand over the back of Adam’s head when she’s taking his plate. It’s such a mom thing to do. Adam can’t count the number of times his own mother has done the same. He has a sudden fierce wish that Kris were here. Adam’s feeling entirely too much emotion for one person right now.

“You want to pass that syrup, son?” Mr. Allen says from behind his newspaper. Luckily passing the syrup doesn’t require Adam to talk, because he’s not sure he’d be able to do it without dissolving into tears at this point. He tells himself it’s because he’s tired, that he’s jetlagged and emotional. But really, he just wants the Allens to adopt his entire family.

“Well well, it looks like I’ve been replaced.” Kris grins as he walks into the kitchen. “You guys have upgraded.”

“They wanted something a little roomier,” Adam says, patting his now full stomach.

“Hi sweetie, you want some pancakes?”

“No thanks, Mama, I ate at home.” Kris leans over to kiss his mother’s cheek as she’s washing dishes.

“What are you boys going to get up to?” she asks.

“Well, I figured I’d take him on a tour of town first.”

“That’ll take, what, an hour?” Adam teases.

“Forty-five minutes, unless we hit traffic,” Kris shoots back. “Then we’re going to hit up Stobie’s for lunch.”

“Honestly, you’ve eaten there every day since you got back,” his mother sighs. “Aren’t you sick of it?”

“He talked about it all the time on tour,” Adam tells her. “I heard him mutter ‘Stobie’s’ in his sleep sometimes.”

“Look, I get free cheese dip for life and I want to get as much mileage out of that as possible,” Kris says patiently, with the air of someone who has explained this several times already. His mother just shakes her head and rolls her eyes skyward.

“Do I get free cheese dip too?” Adam asks.

“’Course you do, you’re gonna be with me, aren’t you?” Kris grins his lopsided grin at him. Adam catches himself giving a goofy grin in return and he schools his features into a more normal smile. God, if he’s not careful he’s going to go around the entire week looking like a besotted idiot. “Now go get dressed.”

“Yessir.”

*****

It’s a nice town. It reminds Adam of something out of Pleasantville, even though it’s bigger. Everything is just so quaint, the little shops with their striped awnings, the people out walking their dogs. Everyone seems very short.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re a giant,” Kris says when Adam mentions it.

“I am a perfectly normal height,” Adam says.

Kris gets the same celebrity treatment at Stobie’s that he got the night before at dinner. Everyone wants to say hello, everyone has some story to tell about when Kris was a kid. Adam could even swear some woman had him kiss her baby.

“You should run for office,” Adam says through a mouthful of cheese dip. Kris was right, it’s pretty much fantastic. Adam kind of wants to drink it with a straw. A waitress appears with a fresh bowl, full almost to overflowing.

“Here’s one just for you, Adam.” She gives him a conspiratorial wink. “Anytime you’re here, the cheese dip is on the house.”

“Really?” Adam says. “That is so sweet, thank you.”

“Don’t you even mention it, we just love you around here.” She squeezes his arm before she leaves. All morning Adam has been welcomed with open arms, with people telling him how much they loved him on the show, how any friend of Kris’ is a friend of theirs. Adam never expected to come to the middle of Arkansas and feel so completely accepted. Kris gives him a knowing grin.

“You’re pretty popular yourself. You wanna be my VP?” he asks.

“God, no.” Adam shudders delicately. “I look terrible in power ties.”

“Suit yourself,” Kris shrugs.

“So is it good to be back in the bosom of your people?” Adam asks. He and Kris haven’t had a whole lot of time to talk yet. Last night was all catching up with Katy and this morning was all catching up with five hundred different locals.

“I find it ironic that you of all people can work the word ‘bosom’ into so many conversations.”

“Is that a no?”

“No, it’s good. It _is_ good. It’s just.” Kris pauses. He starts to pick at the label on his beer. “It’s weird,” he decides on finally.

“Kristopherrrrr,” Adam warns. “Spill it.”

“I just haven’t really _been_ here for so long. And everything kept right on going without me. It’s stupid, but I kind of expected it all to freeze until I got back. And Katy…” He trails off, picking at his beer label with renewed focus. Adam waits. One thing he’s learned is that Kris does things when he’s good and ready and not a second before.

“I think she got used to me not being around,” Kris says finally, his voice pitched so low that Adam can barely hear him. Adam studies his face for some clue to how he feels about that, but his expression is unreadable.

“Did you get used to not being around her?” Adam asks. Kris drops another scrap of label on top of the pile growing on the table.

“Maybe,” he says. He looks up and meets Adam’s eyes. Adam makes a sympathetic face. They sit together quietly for a minute. Then Adam shoves his bowl of cheese dip in front of Kris.

“You need this more than I do,” he says. Kris laughs.

“Thanks, man. What would I do without you?”

Adam grins. “It doesn’t even bear considering.”

*****

Adam’s mom calls in the middle of the week. He usually talks to her every day, but she told him not to dream of interrupting his vacation with phone calls, that she’d call him if she needed him. He’s sitting out on the back porch with the family dog when his phone rings.

“Hey, mom,” he says. It’s good to hear her voice. Something about talking to his mother when he’s far away always gets him a little emotional. He has no idea why. Add that to the fact that this entire visit has had him more than a little emotional, and, well... He’s spent a lot of time feeling like he’s going to bubble over.

“Hi, sweetheart, how is everything going?”

“Fantastic,” he says. “Everyone has been so cool. I get free cheese dip for life and I think Kris’ old Sunday School teacher invited me to live above her garage.” Kris’ dog, a giant, rangy mutt that’s about the same color as Adam’s natural hair, heaves a sigh and curls at his feet. Adam toes his shoe off so he can give the dog a scratch with his foot. The dog whistles appreciatively and rolls onto his side to give Adam better access.

“You see, I knew they’d love you. Nothing to worry about,” his mother says, showing her usual knack for getting straight to the things that niggle at his brain and make him nervous. “Any place that produced someone as wonderful as Kris has got to be full of good eggs.” It’s still a little strange to Adam, the idea that Kris is who he is because of where he came from, rather than despite it like Adam sometimes feels _he_ is. But then, Kris probably could have been born into the most hateful place on earth and still been Kris. Suddenly, intensely, Adam is glad of that, and that he knows him. That he can call him a friend.

“Is his mom there?” his mother asks. Adam clears his throat but his voice still comes out froggy when he says she is. “Is everything okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Everything’s fine. It’s great, actually. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” The warmth in his mother’s voice is unmistakable. He imagines her in her kitchen, the African violets on the windowsill, the cat drowsing on the rug. Maybe he’ll go spend some time with her when he gets back home. Take her out for pedicures and margaritas. “Now put Kim on, I want to talk to her about them coming out here for Thanksgiving.”

“Okay.”

*****

On his last day, Adam tells Kris that he wants to do something “Arkansassy”.

“Arkansassy?” Kris asks. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It is if I say it is,” Adam says. “Now take me to do something that you used to do when you lived here.”

Kris drives him out of the city to a quiet bend of the river. The sun glints on the water, turning everything golden and sparkling. Kris rolls up his jeans in wide cuffs, wades in up to his ankles to search for skipping stones. He makes quite a picture, cuffed jeans and a plaid shirt, winging stones across the surface of the water. All he needs is a stalk of hay between his teeth.

“This is the folksiest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Adam says. “And I’ve worn overalls.”

“You? In overalls?” Kris asks, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline.

“It was for a play,” Adam admits. “I was Huck Finn. But I still wore them.”

“I was gonna say. Overalls seem distinctly unfabulous for you.”

“Theater is a harsh mistress.” Kris smiles, inspecting the flat stone in his hand before tossing it to Adam.

“That one’s perfect, give it a shot.” Adam dutifully hefts the stone, makes an attempt to skip it across the water. It skips twice before sinking with an audible plop. Kris’ stone skips so many times that Adam stops counting.

“Is this what you’d do in high school?” Adam asks. “Come to the river and skip stones?”

“Yeah,” Kris admits. “And drink beer.”

“You drank in high school?” Adam asks in surprise.

“I didn’t. But some guys did.”

“Geez,” Adam says. “I hung out at coffee houses and went to the Rocky Horror Picture Show and snuck over the border to get drunk in Tijuana in high school.”

“We’re from different worlds, Lambert.” Kris glances over his shoulder at Adam. The sun is behind him, turning his hair into a golden corona around his head. Kris gives him a lopsided smile. It’s the saddest fucking thing Adam’s ever seen, somehow.

*****

“So you’ve gotten the Conway experience, I think,” Kris says. They’re back at the house, loitering around Kris’ room. His parents are out with some friends. Kris and Adam are supposed to meet them later for dinner at some jazz club. The house is quiet and still. Even the dog is silent. He’d been napping in a puddle of sunshine when they walked through the kitchen on their way upstairs.

“Yep,” Adam says. “The Kris Allen Homestead tour. Should I understand you more as a person now?” Kris laughs ruefully.

“I haven’t really lived here for a while,” he says, running his finger over the spines of his yearbooks. “I’m not the same person as I was. You know that better than anyone, you’ve seen more of me in the last year than my wife has.”

“True,” Adam laughs.

“It’ll be weird to go back to normal,” Kris says. He frowns at the yearbooks.

“I keep expecting to have another tour date,” Adam admits. “Like any second someone’s going to tell us to get on the bus and we’re going to drive to Illinois and play road trip games.”

“Will you miss it?” Kris looks at him. His face seems neutral, but Adam knows him well enough to see the tiny brackets at the corners of his mouth, the furrow between his eyebrows. A billion words are piling up on Adam’s tongue, fighting to get out. But it would be so unfair to say them.

“Parts of it,” he says finally. Kris raises his eyebrows. His smile is gentle.

“I’ll miss you too, Adam,” he says simply.

Adam’s not sure when or how he closed the distance between them, he has no idea what happened to make his brain short circuit so completely, but nothing has ever felt so right as his mouth on Kris’. If his brain weren’t already fried, the fact that Kris is kissing him back would finish the job.

They’re both breathing hard when they pull apart. Kris’ lips are wet and bruised-looking, his eyes dazed. He looks like someone who just got good and kissed. It’s all Adam can do not to kiss him again. Kris stares at him for a long time, so long that Adam’s heart sinks lower and lower. It’s not like he thought kissing Kris would be without consequence, he never really allowed himself to believe it could or _should_ go anywhere, but now he’s feeling like everything just got massively fucked and nothing will ever be the same.

So you could just about knock him over with a feather when Kris moves past him and quietly shuts the door, turning the lock with a click.

Adam is keenly aware of everything as Kris slowly moves back to stand in front of him – the curtains billowing slightly into the room, the tick of the clock on the dresser, the stubborn cowlick of Kris’ hair that wings up no matter what product Kris uses. It’s practically at Adam’s eyelevel, so it’d be hard _not_ to be aware of it. It’s not the first time he’s noticed how much bigger he is than Kris. It’s just the first time it’s had any implications.

Kris goes up on tiptoe to reach Adam’s mouth, almost hesitantly, his hand on Adam’s arm for balance. Adam can’t quite kiss him back at first. He’s still too afraid that it’s just some product of his imagination, like maybe he has a brain tumor and he’s having delusions.

“Could you please pinch me?” he asks when Kris pulls away, sinking back down onto his heels until Adam is almost looking straight down in order to see his face.

“What?”

“Pinch me.”

Kris gives him a skeptical look. “Okay, but I’m not sure I like where this is leading,” he says. He catches Adam’s forearm between two fingers, gives Adam a firm tweak. Adam feels it pretty well.

“It’s not a brain tumor,” he murmurs, dazed.

“You think feeling a pinch rules out a brain tumor?” Kris asks in confusion. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Really?” Adam asks. Somehow his hands have come up to Kris’ throat, his fingertips splayed on the sides of Kris’ neck, thumbs grazing his jaw. He can feel two day’s worth of stubble, rough like sandpaper against his skin. When he draws his index finger along the soft spot behind Kris’ ear, Kris shudders and swallows hard, his pupils dilating into blackness, and all of Adam’s blood drains into his crotch. “Fuck it, I don’t care if it’s a tumor,” he says, just before sliding his tongue across Kris’ mouth and licking his way inside.

He’s surprised to find himself being the passive one, letting Kris set the rules. It’s a new experience for Adam. Kris is the one pulling their hips together, he’s the one threading his hands through Adam’s hair and backing him towards the bed until Adam’s calves collide with the mattress and they topple onto it.

The bed wasn’t intended for this sort of activity, any more than it was intended for someone as big as Adam. The frame creaks and protests when they collapse on top of it. They have to maneuver carefully, fitting their limbs together like puzzle pieces. Adam shifts on the mattress and immediately cracks the back of his head on the dresser.

“Goddamn fucking bed is too small,” Adam curses, rubbing the back of his head. Kris pushes Adam’s hand away with his own, tests the back of his skull with his fingers.

“It’s not the bed’s fault you’re a giant,” he says. “It’s Kris-sized, not Adam-sized.” His touch is gentle, careful. Like Adam is breakable. Like he’s valuable.

“Well it’s not _my_ fault you’re so tiny,” Adam says gruffly, to cover the emotion in his voice. “Are you sure you don’t live in a tree and make cookies?”

“Shut up,” Kris laughs.

“Make me,” Adam responds. He wasn’t expecting Kris to shut him up with his mouth. It’s an effective tactic. Adam can barely think, let alone talk. It feels strangely like it did back when he was a teenager, when he was only just figuring sex out and felt like everything was some new and thrilling discovery, something that no one had ever experienced before him. The feel of Kris’ mouth, of his tongue sliding along Adam’s, is like a jolt of pure electricity. Fuck, and they still have all their clothes on.

What they’re doing is so selfish, so self-indulgent, so out of character for both of them. He tries not to think of Katy when he flips open the buttons of Kris’ fly, when he spits on his hand and curls it around Kris’ erection. The noise that Kris makes is sinful, godly, utterly glorious. Adam is jerking him off with no finesse, no technique. He’s too desperate to do anything else. Kris either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. It’s ridiculous that they’re going from first kiss to sex in half an hour. It’s like everything has been leading up to this for months, like they’re bombs that have been ticking and ticking and ticking and now they can’t do anything other than explode.

Kris’ body trembles and jerks against him. Adam absorbs the movement with his own body, presses Kris’ chest to his, pinning his legs. Kris’ mouth is open against Adam’s chest, right where the v-neck of his shirt gaps. When his shudders have subsided, Adam feels him press a kiss just below his collarbone, right over his heart. Then he starts fumbling at Adam’s belt. The movement alone makes Adam’s abdomen tighten painfully. Kris’ voice is barely more than a whisper when he asks, “Do you want me to…?”

“Oh god.”

“Adam-”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Oh _god_.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kris breathes, his hand already working the belt free of its buckle and lowering Adam’s zipper. Adam tenses himself, trying to steel his control so that he doesn’t lose his mind the second Kris’ hand touches him. It doesn’t even come close to working. The sound he makes is animal, wild.

“It’s weird going at it from this angle,” Kris says. His eyes are so clear, so wide-open, his face is the sweetest thing Adam’s ever seen. He leans forward and catches Kris’ mouth with his. The kiss is soft, slow, tender; it holds everything Adam wants to say, all the things he’s felt for the last year, all the things he thinks he’ll feel forever. It’s a sharp contrast to the increasing speed of Kris’ hand. Adam’s not at all sure he won’t start to cry.

*****

They lie quietly for a long time afterwards, until the breeze from the windows dries the sweat on their bodies and Adam almost shivers. The sounds of suburbia filter in from outside – kids playing in the street, cars idling, lawnmowers chugging across the expanses of green. Adam’s afraid to say anything that might shatter the spell. The sad part is that no matter what either of them says, the spell will break. Things like this can never last.

“Say something,” Adam says finally, when he can’t take it any more.

“What do you want me to say?” Kris asks quietly. The sadness in his voice would be enough to break Adam’s heart if it hadn’t already been breaking. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m not sorry it happened, but it still shouldn’t have happened.” He says it as kindly as anyone could ever say something like that, and Adam was thinking the same thing, but it still stings.

“No,” Adam agrees softly. Kris’ hand tightens in his hair for a split second, then relaxes. Adam closes his eyes and concentrates, tries to memorize how every inch of his skin feels.

“I love my wife,” Kris says, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence. “I made her a promise and I can’t break it.” His hand stills in Adam’s hair and he laughs a little, a sharp exhalation of breath. “I can’t break it _again_. I’m sorry, Adam.” Adam can only nod silently.

“Are you okay?” Adam knows Kris is asking out of concern, not out of guilt. It makes things easier and harder at the same time.

“Just promise me we’ll always be a part of each other’s lives,” Adam says. He tries to mask the urgency in his voice, but it’s not exactly a sentence you can say casually. For a second he allows himself the luxury of burying his face in Kris’ chest, of blocking out the world.

“Of course we will be,” Kris answers without the slightest bit of hesitation. Then he laughs. “Like you could get rid of me.”

*****

They’re never alone after that. There’s dinner with Kris’ family, breakfast with his friends the next day, Katy driving them to the airport that afternoon. It’s probably a good thing. It doesn’t leave any time for things to get weird. There was only one dicey moment, when Kris’ mother asked over dinner what they’d gotten up to that afternoon. Kris had come up with some story on the spot about being mobbed by pre-teens downtown. Adam had merely choked on his water.

Katy waits with the car out on the curb at the airport. Adam leans forward from the backseat to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She’s such a sweet girl. If anything could make him truly regret what happened with Kris, it’d be that, but he can’t bring himself to wish he could take it back. Maybe it’ll never happen again. Maybe it never should have happened in the first place. But he couldn't give it up now that it has.

“So this is it,” Kris says once Adam’s checked in and is standing just outside the security checkpoint. The girl manning the line has recognized him and gestured for him to jump up to the front. Normally Adam would feel bad about the favoritism, but right now he doesn’t want to wait through that whole line while Kris is watching. Leaving is going to be hard enough as it is.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” Adam says. He’s saying it to himself as much as to Kris.

“Take care of yourself.” They usually split the difference with their hugs, one arm up and one arm down. But this time Kris’ arms are under his, his face pressed hard into Adam’s shoulder. It’s exactly the kind of hug that usually makes straight guys freak out. Adam loves that Kris doesn’t give a shit. He squeezes him so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if Kris ended up with a broken rib.

“Hey, Adam,” Kris says after they’ve pulled apart and Adam’s moved towards the head of the security line. Adam stops and turns to look back at him. Kris glances over at the people in line. They’re pretending that they aren’t paying attention, but Adam can practically see their ears quivering. Kris looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, so Adam waits.

“Do you ever wish things had happened differently?” Kris could be referring to a million different things: to him winning over Adam, to making it to the final two instead of Gokey, to being roommates, to even going on the show in the first place. To finding someone you could love forever that you’re not allowed to have. Maybe he’s referring to all of them.

“No,” Adam says at length. “I think everything happened just the way it was supposed to.” Kris smiles, nods. Adam turns and goes through the checkpoint, piling his bag and jacket and shoes into a plastic container. Just before he puts them on the scanner belt, he turns and finds Kris as he’s walking past.

“Hey,” he calls. Kris stops and comes over closer to the barrier separating the security area. “It’s your turn to visit,” Adam says with a grin. Kris grins back. He steps against the barrier – it’s one of those stretchy fabric belts – and it pulls tightly against his hips. He grabs Adam with a hand on either side of his face, pulls his head down and plants a loud kiss on the crown of his hair.

“You tell me when and where and I’ll be there with bells on,” he says. Then he’s gone, disappearing through the crowds and leaving Adam to go through security and get on a plane heading back home.

 

  
_title from “this must be the place (naïve melody)” by Talking Heads_   



End file.
